First Post: Post your character sheet, background, and any other information first. In a second post you may roleplay the journey from Molgar-Karn to Kazak-Dun. Once everyone is assembled and ready, we will begin at the bast of Mt. Kazak.
Kazak-Dun is a mountain fortress, the last and greatest of it's kind, the last home of the Great Dwarves. Long before the dwarves of today inhabited the world, their ancestors ruled the mountain ranges. They had many homes, all of which now lie abandoned, ruined, or overrun; all but one. Kazak-Dun.
Situated on Mount Kazak, the highest mountain in the known world, Kazak-Dun was the last known refuge of the great dwarves. Sightings of them have always been few, for they favo the world beneath the stone and rarely venture out to trade, even then trading only with their 'little cousins'. As close as any dwarf dares to live to Kazak-Dun is the fort Molgar-Karn. The fort is both an embassy to the Great Dwarves and a trading post, manned by a conglomeration of many dwarven nations.
Two-hundred and fifty years after the last meeting with one of the Great Dwarves, one descended from the great Kazak-Dun. His dialect was old, too old for the dwarves to understand, but he was ushered into the captain's quarters at Molgar-Karn. There he relayed a message that dwarven linguists took a full year to decipher before expiring.
"Hail, little-cousin, and beware. The great hall brims with dwarf-foes. March upon the great hall in all your numbers ere the Cursed shatter our anvil and break our kin. The Thane watches."
The cryptic warning was heeded and word was sent to all the dwarven nations to rally at Molgar-Karn to march on Kazak-Dun. The captain of Molgar-Karn sent an advance squad of varied and skilled dwarves to clear a way for the army that would follow. You were blessed by Moradin and selected for the dangerous journey. What awaits you cannot be known, for the translation is broken and questionable, but it will be dangerous.
Only yesterday did you stand before the captain of Molgar-Karn who, amongst many, selected you for this vital task. Each of you carries a scroll, though your memories are not yet so long gone in age nor ale to need them; the message was etched into your minds by the captain. "We rally the armies of all Moradin's kin to march on Kazak-Dun. Distant and reclusive as our ancestors may be, no dwarf faces death alone but instead shoulder to shoulder, clad in the mail of their kin." His fingers graze the head of his battleaxe, his eyes size you up in a silent pause. "You will go with all haste to the halls of Kazak-Dun and clear away through whatever pitfalls and ill-fortune await us there. The united might of dwarfdom is behind you, do not fail us," he said, clapping you each on the shoulder, "we are counting on you."
You bid fond farewells to your kith and kin, gathering up what supplies were provided and what you thought might be needed. Standing at the mighty gates of Molgar-Karn, you and your fellows were presented with three more gifts, each unusual and precious. A dwarven scholar, hearty and well fed presented you a book, bound in goat's hide. "This is all our knowledge on the language of the Great Dwarves. It is defficient in many areas, but it may help you understand their writings and, Moradin willing, their speech."
The quartermaster, a diminuitive dwarf whose size was magnified by authority came next, unwrapping five peices of chalk wrapped in silk. "They will mark clearly and resiliantly on any stone, gem, or ore but the writing will appear as gibberish to any without Moradin's blood. Leave us what messages you can, warn us of dangers which you have already surpassed."
Finally the high priest of Molgar-Karn approached, Moradin's anvil emblazoned on his head and smitthing tools rounding his girth. "A blessing," he said, reciting a long passage in dwarven, "that the All Father's eyes may be drawn to you, his ears bent to you, and his tongue speak to you." He resolutely ignores the sundisk of Pelor, which is about as polite as he has ever been.
Thusly, you are dispatched from Molgar-Karn on your quest to Kazak-Dun. The road is not so long, but treacherous in the extreme. For days ice gathers on your beards and in your hair, wind buffets your hardy stature, and the cold sinks through your many layered furs. But you march on, for you are dwarves!
Born the seventh son of a lower class craftsman, Eberk knew his highest aspiration in life would be to work for one of his brothers, yet he wanted more. With the blessing of his parents, he entered into the Order of the Iron Cudgel, a monastic tradition dedicated to studying the mystical connection between the dwarven race and the element of earth in all its aspects. The order is completely devoted to preserving and improving the dwarven way of life, usually with emphasis on raising the less fortunate. Recently granted the rank of acolyte, Eberk sets about the tasks of his order.
Eberk is easily identified as a member of his order by his simple brown acolytes linens, as well as the wrought iron cudgel that hangs from his belt. He wears his beard and topknot both in a single intricate braids.
The Tale of Juthra'ik, Eater of Bones, The She-Mountain, Matron of the Gurrat'ik.Show
There is no tale of Ukra'ik Silversnake, for his is not yet a life of tales. Therefore, I will tell you the tale of his mother.
But where do we begin to tell the tale of Sacred Juthra, Queen of the Gurrat'ik, when there are none who witnissed her birth? Oh, truly so, the Dwarves of the Gurrat'ik War-Clan claim She is as old as the Gods themselves. But, perhaps, a more accurate estimate is that she is among the oldest Dragons whom still roam the world.
I shall start when she first encountered the Dwarves of Mount Gurrat. It was fabled Wurrat, the First Explorer, whom was the first to encounter the Lady Dragon. What he saw was a silvery-green Dragon, a being of immense strength and intelligence. Despite her age, she still carried herself with the ease and poise of a younger member of her race.
Under her watchful gaze, Wurrat led those that would become the Gurrat'ik Warclan into the narrow caves that ran through Mount Gurrat where they would start to build their home. She did not oppose this sudden flurry of life in her once lonely lair, but neither did she help these small creatures as they moved into her home. She seemed content to watch them with interest, and occasionally a Dwarf would glance upwards and notice an amused glint in her eyes.
The Elders of Gurrat'ik say it took their ancestors over a year before their matron Dragon finally deemed the small folk worthy of conversation. She called out to the leaders of the clan, a group of ancient Dwarves, and, of course, First Explorer Wurrat, asking them to join her in discussing the future of their combined lives. Over the course of six months the first Gurrat'ik Laws were established, a set of rules and rights describing how the Dwarves and the Dragon would be able to live together in peace and what demands they would be able to make of eachother.
While we shall not go into detail what exactly was described in these Laws, the result was astonishing. For perhaps the first time in world history, Dwarf and Dragon lived together in peace. Over the years Juthra'ik left her lair many times for reasons she rarely explained to the Elders, and each time she would return to a lair more beautiful than when she left. The rough walls of the enormous cave were first smoothed, then carved with intricate symbols and paintings describing the life of this unique clan of Dwarves.
The Gurrat'ik dug tunnels running deep into the heart of the mountain, some leading down to mines, while others led to living quarters, mercantile squares and craftsmen's caverns. They led parties out into the deeper world, raiding and making war with other Dwarven clans and other creatures of the deep to strengthen their line and prove their worth to the Elder Dwarves of the Old Home.
But now the Gurrat'ik suddenly have to make do without their powerful ally. Juthra'ik announced that she would go on a journey, and would not be able to return for so long a time that it would be likely her name would be lost to legend.
But, before she left, now over seventy years ago, she borne the Warclan a Dwarven son. Ukra'ik Silversnake, Son of the Myriad Dragon, Champion of the Gurrak'ik. And now, with the dire news of Kazak-Dun, the Elders knew he would recieve his first test. Today, the tale of Ukra'ik son of Juthra'ik will begin.
Personal: Dragon Soul (Poison): Resist 5 poison, ignore 5 poison resistance Cast-Iron Stomach: +5 saving throws vs poison Stand Your Ground: 1 less forced movement; make saving throw to avoid being knocked prone.
Khadrak Willforger, level 1 Dwarf (Human) Wizard|Warlord 24 yr. old Male, 4' 5", 160 lb Human featuresShow
Average Height: 5' 6" - 6'2" Average Weight: 135 - 220
Ability scores: +2 to one ability score of your choice Size: Medium Speed: 6 squares. Vision: Normal
Languages: Common, choice of one other Bonus Feat: You gain a bonus feat at 1st level. You must meet the feat’s prerequisites. Bonus Skill: You gain training in one additional skill from your class skills list. Human Defense Bonuses: You gain a +1 racial bonus to Fortitude, Reflex, and Will. Human Power Selection: Choose an option for your human character. Bonus At-Will Power: You know one extra 1st level at-will attack power from your class. Heroic Effort: You have the heroic effort power. ---
You call out to a wounded ally and offer inspiring words of courage and determination that invigorates your comrade.
Encounter (Special)Healing, Martial Minor ActionClose burst 5 (10 at 11th level, 15 at 21st level)
Target: You or one ally in the burst
Effect: The target can spend a healing surge and regain 1d6 additional hit points. Level 6: 2d6 additional hit points. Level 11: 3d6 additional hit points. Level 16: 4d6 additional hit points. Level 21: 5d6 additional hit points. Level 26: 6d6 additional hit points.
Special: You can use this power twice per encounter, but only once per round. At 16th level, you can use this power three times per encounter.
You gesture toward an object nearby, and a spectral floating hand lifts the object into the air and moves it where you wish.
At-WillArcane, Conjuration Minor ActionRanged 5
Effect: You conjure a spectral, floating hand in an unoccupied square within range. The hand lasts until the end of your next turn or until you use this power again. If you are holding an object when you use this power, the hand can move the object into a pack, a pouch, a sheath, or a similar container and simultaneously move any one object carried or worn anywhere on your body into your hand. While the hand persists, you can take the following actions.
Minor Action: The hand picks up or manipulates an object weighing 20 pounds or less. It can hold only one object at a time.
Move Action: The hand moves up to 5 squares in any direction, carrying the object it holds.
Free Action: The hand drops the object it is holding.
Sustain Minor: The hand persists until the end of your next turn.
With a wave of your hand, you cause a bright light to appear on the tip of your staff, upon some other object, or in a nearby space.
At-WillArcane Minor ActionRanged 5
Target: One object or unoccupied square
Effect: The target sheds bright light until the end of the encounter or until you use this power again. The light fills the target’s space and all squares within 4 squares of it. Putting out the light is a free action.
You chant, sing, or otherwise inspire your allies with your words, allowing them to draw the strength to battle on from your encouragement.
EncounterAura, Healing, Martial Minor ActionPersonal
Effect: You activate an aura 5 that lasts until the end of the encounter. If the aura ends prematurely for any reason, you can reactivate it during the encounter as a minor action. Twice Once per encounter but only once per turn, you or any ally in the aura can use a minor action to spend a healing surge and regain 1d6 additional hit points. Alternatively, you or any ally can use a minor action to allow an adjacent ally to spend a healing surge and regain the additional hit points. Level 6: 2d6 additional hit points. Level 11: 3d6 additional hit points. Level 16: 4d6 additional hit points, and the healing can be used three times per encounter. Level 21: 5d6 additional hit points, and the healing can be used three times per encounter. Level 26: 6d6 additional hit points, and the healing can be used three times per encounter.
Khadrak, the firstborn son of Lord Mordrak Ironforge, began his life on Moradin's holiest day. Khadrak's early childhood was fairly normal, considering he was the presumptive heir to rulership over the powerful Ironforge clan. However, all normalcy ceased when he was struck down by a rare and deadly disease. Thanks to his family's easy access to powerful priests, Khadrak survived, but his body's strength was permanently wrecked. Unable to endure the standard dwarven warrior training, unable to work the forges or the mines, Khadrak could easily have become an embarrasment if not for his stubborn refusal to become a cripple. Since his body would not serve, he was determined to build his mind into an asset and avoid becoming a burden to his clan. After years of constant study, his keen strategic and tactical insight has melded with an unusual affinity for arcane powers. Disciplined exercise has rebuilt his body to the point where it is (barely) capable of withstanding the rigors of travel and combat. He has formally passed the status of heir to his younger brother Ghurdrak. Eager to prove that he can provide valuable service to his clan, Khadrak has applied to the Captain of Molgar-Karn, hoping to join the advance squad sent to investigate Kazak-Dun.
At-Will - Arcane, Charm, Enchantment, Implement, Psychic Standard Action - Close blast 5 Target: Each enemy in the blast. Attack: +6 vs. Will Hit: 5 psychic damage, and you push the target up to three squares. ---
At-Will - Arcane, Illusion, Implement, Psychic Standard Action - Area burst 1 within 10 Target: Each enemy in the burst. Attack: +6 vs. Will Hit: 1d6 + 1 psychic damage, and the target cannot take opportunity actions until the end of your next turn. ---
At-Will - Martial Standard Action - Ranged 5 Target: One ally. Effect: The target makes a basic attack as a free action against an enemy of your choice that you can see and is within 10 squares of you. ---
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ====== Fenris of the Iron Wolf Tribe, level 1 Gold Dwarf, Ranger Build: Two-Blade Ranger Fighting Style Option: Two-Blade Fighting Style Ranger Option: Running Attack Explorer/Guide (Explorer/Guide Benefit) Theme: Iron Wolf Warrior
FINAL ABILITY SCORES STR 18, CON 12, DEX 14, INT 8, WIS 16, CHA 8
STARTING ABILITY SCORES STR 16, CON 10, DEX 14, INT 8, WIS 16, CHA 8
Fenris is the first member of his clan to bear the name of Fenris, its a name that had been forgotten since the rise of the clan. As members of the warrior caste he was never giving a name until the Time of Choosing. This occured every 4 years after the warrior has served his clan in their army for at least 10 years. Until then they are called by their role, so when Fenris was born he was Child, as a teen, Youth, as an adult Scout. Having served his 10 years Scout with the twin double bladed axes, his way of being identified from all the other scouts, went to the joining with a purpose.
No matter what happened he was to be given a name, probably something along the line of Kildraken, Kildrake, Kildorn... his father being Kildren. That's how most of the naming went, but to earn an Elder's name you had to compete in the Elder Battles, that was his goal, he wanted to revive an ancestors name that had not been used in generations. The only problem was the couple dozen other warriors who wanted the same, and their was only to be 6 names given out this time.
Now no matter what, the Elder Battles always were about who were the strongest amongst the warriors. Scout always believed that either his older brother Phalanx, who passed on the Time of Choosing his turn to claim an Elder name or his buddy Berserker would be ones to easily claim a name this year as his brother has slowly worked his way up the ladder to finally have best odds of claiming a name in this years battles after having been just at the cutoff the last 2 years. The event started with a brutal melee royal, hoping to cut the numbers down from the 35 nameless to 12, for the Tournament of Choosing. Right off Scout, Berserker, and Phalanx teamed up, forming up back to back, making sure no one can flank them.
As the battle raged on, they added other friends and warriors with promises of aid in the future, all noticed that this group showed the best skill, and would be rewarded for it. It was 2 hours later, when the crowds died down waiting to see who would walk into the light to claim a spot. It was Phalanx who lead the group into the spot of victory, Scout or Berserker not big into leading other, but their were on his left and right. Phalanx claimed the right of victory for these 12 warriors, and that the elders shall bask in their battles. With that the elders accepted this group. Over the next several days the twelve were whittled down with one on one battles until the final six were selected, Phalanx seemed to be the favored to receive the eldest name, Berserker barely made it in having had his head rung in his last battle before getting a lucky swing in. Scout had place, the odd thing was he neither found it hard or easy, it almost seemed to him that he was following a path laid out for him.
The next part was fairly simple, at this point in the ceremony the warriors had the right to choose, continue fighting for the eldest name or allow the elders to choose one from living memory. Names from the fallen or lost in the last 10 generations. Those that were seriously wounded including Berserker took the naming, they received honorable names, names to be proud of, even a few to laugh about, Berserker being one of them. He was named for the warrior and merchant Oghren, known for facing every battle drunk and for being his own best customer. This Oghren beamed in excitment, the name suited him well as he was getting to be known as a bit of a drunkard himself. With those wounded that brought the numbers down to 3, leaving Phalanx, Scout and Seeker, a female warrior from the Hunters caste. Seeker was the first female in a generation, but while not wounded she seemed proud of her standing, she accepted the chance to receive what ever name the elders choose. They deliberated and the after much talk the Elder Shaman and Clan chief made an announcement, they were going to grant her an Eldest name, for they believed that she deserved the chance to bring in more females as was their right. The crowd drowned out everything for minutes, the name was a strong and powerful one, it ended up being the first female chief of the Clan. This dwarf was shocked so at the honor, she fainted on the spot. A large gasp was heard from the crowd as they all worried until on of the healers on hand informed them that she was fine, that the excitement seemed to be too much for her. A chuckle spread and she along with the others started to clear the field.
Up till this point Scout had been in his own trouble, ever since he entered the Naming Chamber, he had been seeing things and hearing things. Whispers of advice, wolf howls and panting. Thinking he'd gone insane he started looking around the chamber to see if the others were hearing it, but no they seemed to only react to the crowd and the elders. It was then that Scout saw his it, a giant wolf that paced the arena, shadows covered it grey coat as it stuck close to the walls. He knew then, that every thing he had heard in the chamber and felt outside it was leading him here. It approached him and as it got closer it got larger, until Scout barely stood above the joint in its legs, this wolf was at least 3 dwarfs tall. It was then that he remembered the legends of the clan, this wolf was probably the first chiefs wolf, for which the Iron Wolf Clan was so named, the more he looked at the magnificent creature the more it seemed it was not just grey but worked iron grey almost steel in color. That when the whispers got louder and a clear voice range out.
Who are you little dwarf, why are you here. It was obvious that it was the wolf speaking for as the wolf had gotten closer, the room and seemed to empty and go dark. So Scout spoke out as load as he could to make sure to be heard, I am Scout here to be named.
The wolf cocked it head to the side, Named? But you are already named, you have been since before you were born, since the days I roamed these cave in flesh and blood.
What do you mean I've been named, who did me this dishonor in not earning my name?
Why little one, have you forgotten so much in the time you've grown, you named yourself, you called upon mine and your ancestors to name you as the fates decreed you would be born. But my time grows short, you must call out your name now, you know it and if you don't fates hand will fall and you shall be lost to a smaller pack.
But I don't know it, Scout stammered.
You do, just think, feel it within yourself, and when you name us, other knowledge will befall you, but know this you get only one chance, fall and you shall not remember this, but you will never forget the feelings that you aren't meant to be where you are. Name us! NAME US NOW!
The wolf looking weak starts to fade, closing his eyes Scout lets his emotions go, trying not to think upon the words for now, he reaches out hoping to help the creature, for as it fade so do the memories of this event, so to does all thing seem to slip from his mind. Images and thoughts fade, emotions fade, faster that he can grab at them until nothing but a void and the last traces of the wolf remain. Not knowing what this creature is, he reached out to comfort it in its obvious pain. Placing his hands on its head for the creature in now laying on the ground, he places his forehead against its. With that contact a flicker of memory rises, jumping back the dwarf is startled, but the wolf looks stronger like the contact strengthen it. Being as brave as he's ever known, he again reaches for he creatures head, once again placing his forehead to its own. The memory flickers again, this time the dwarf feels something. An urge to cry forth only a word, but the word has no meaning to him.
A last segment of words reach into his mind....NAME US! Knowing no other word, knowing not truly what it means the dwarf shouts out the only words he seems to know.
I AM FENRIS!
With that, memories flood him again, this time were his name was spoken, his true name is replaced as if he's always heard his name. It was if Scout never existed, and he never did. With these remolded memories came spending time with wolves, and the knowledge they passed on to him, ways to attack, he was seeing new ways to attack with the weapons he carried, becoming more like a wolf. The urge to howl filled him, so he did, and as he did so to large spiritual wolf seemed to gain strength, so he did so again, hearing other wolves join in. He continued until the creature stood before him, though this time it was about the size of himself, they locked eyes and several last pieces of knowledge passed into him, one was that this wolf was half of his soul, locked away until the Time of Choosing, the other was going to be passed on to others in a moment.
As the creature moved to stand beside him, the chamber started to lighten, and he could see that the chamber had heard everything he had spoken, it seemed it had corresponded to somethings as he found himself facing his brother for the chance at the Eldest name, but the last part seemed to shock everyone. For while the fight had not started, the fact he had claimed a name was insulting to all. His brother, looking fearful and angry moved closer.
Stop brother and listen,his brother hesitated, Fenris turned to the elders. I am Fenris of the Iron Wolf Clan, I have claimed my name by calling upon my wolf spirit within me.At that a howl arose in the chamber with no source to be found.I will fight to keep my name but ask that you grant my brother the victory. I have shamed him and the elders here by claiming a name, one not ever taken by an ancestor, but one we have all heard. I am that wolf or I am it, but I know who I am. If its your wish I will fight my brother who has earned the name of the First Chief, Azrekenguard, I name him such because he will lead these people in time I feel it, while I be his ever loyal friend and blood brother. For I cannot be his family anymore, I cut ties with all my family as penitence for what I did today. Only asking my blood brother forgive me. I do this so that I can find what was lost so long ago, the armor of Azrekenguard. We know it was lost when he went in search of Kazak-Dun, I know now that there is a talk of a quest for Kazak-Dun and I plan to join it. My hope is to make up for this great dishonor by returning his remains and his armor, so that they may be buried properly and the armor given to a proper successor. I only ask you honor my request as I know I have earned the label outcast.
His brother comes over, a profound look of sadness in his eyes, My blood brother is right, I do have aspirations for Clan Chief. I will tell you this, when I get the honor of that post if my blood brother ever returns I will return whatever honor you take away from him this day. For he has shown much courage in stripping his own honor away for the disgrace his has done, but one dishonor will not be acknowledged by me, turning to his blood brother You will not be a blood brother to me, but my true brother. Not all may say or do as much but you have given me a chance at a future I desire, when I can see in your eyes the hunger of your wolf, you would have maimed me in more then physical ones this day if I fought you, destroying our family much more then the dishonor you have shown. I thank you brother, and know that Fenris will always be welcome in my home.
The crowd silent up till now roared with approval, cries of mercy to the elders to honor his request.
Quiet!, the Clan Chief yelled, it took a bit of time before the crowd settled. You have dishonored this chamber and these events. He started out somberly, Yet you have made sure that this dishonor is your own and punished yourself in worse ways then even myself could have imagined, but there is one thing we cannot do. While I will agree to all that you have done, the name Azrekenguard has been sealed until he can be found. Turning to Phalanx. So as winner of the Elder Naming I grant you the name Azreken, until such a time as your blood brother return with what he promises or that you accept the new name as the honor it is. Turning back to Fenris, There is only one last thing, I must add one more condition to your dishonor Fenris, he looks proud and sorrowful as he speaks, You are to be given a few days of rest to prepare, but otherwise you cannot return to the Clan until you return what you have promised or your no longer claim that body.
I accept those terms, I am proud to bear them. He bows to the Chief and Elders, I thank you for the time of rest, but with this revelation new energy has flooded me, to do you all a great honor I will say what little farewells I believe I have and be on my way.
With that, Fenris takes his leave and like he expects his brother, Oghren and his family are the only ones to see him off. He takes to the deep roads hoping to catch up with those leaving on this quest, know that he might never see home again.
ITEMS Ritual Book Hand of Fate Comprehend Language Magic Staff +1 x1 Magic Chainmail +1 x1 Amulet of Protection +1 x1 Adventurer's Kit Climber's Kit Holy Symbol Lantern Oil (1 pint) Crowbar Chalk and slate Harness Residuum (Any) Flask (empty) Pitcher of Ale Bell and whistle Cloth Armor (Basic Clothing)
The Ironhill Slaughter Far to the west stands the ruins of fort Ironhill, once, the proud protector of the Thorstein. Fort Ironhill was built more then a two century ago to block the Hekla pass and prevent Bloodwash orcs from sweeping up the slopes of Mt. Krafla and into the clan halls the Thorstein Dwarves called home. Its walls were built by the best Masons and it s ramparts manned only by those with the stoutest heart. For generations its wall were washed by breaking armies of orcs, but in the end it Failed Gnarl Brokentooth was a fanatic of Gruumsh and the most powerful in his tribe. He quickly other threw the reign chief and put his people to war. His first victims his own people. With a savagery and brutality not seen before among the Bloodwash he brought all the fighting tribes to heel and then turned them towards Mount Krafla. Gnarl Brokentooth lead a vast army and those in its path trembled. Fort Ironhill had truly been built by masters. For six months the hoard of Brokentooth was kept at bay. The cost was horrific but it looked like the tide was turning and the Thorstein’s would prevail. Then came the night of blood. Gnarl Brokentooth stepped before the great walls and ripped out his own eye and demanded that Gruumsh give him the power he needed. He stamped his foot, the earth shook and the walls fell. And with the fall of the walls so to Clan Thorstein. The hoard rode into great clan halls and not one dwarf was left alive save the very youngest. That was me. I have no memory of this or of any of my time among the Bloodwash orcs. The first thing a remember is the shining glow that heralded the arrival of the Solar Brigade . This small band come to my mountain, Mt. Krafla, to rid the world of Gnarl Brokentooth and they did just that. Unexpected, the also rescued me from my position as Gnarl’s pet and brought me out into the glorious sun. The light of Pelor that Sun Brigade had brought with them was the first light I had ever been exposed to and it was glorious but it paled before cleansing power of Pelor’s most wonderful creation. The sun washed over me and took the all the evil and darkness form me and replaced it with love and light. Its power filled me and nourished me and has never left me. That glorious light has never left me and I have devoted my life to the service of my god in thanks for what he has done for me. With his guidance I have watch helped the world grow and to spread the light of life every where. The last 87 years have been filled with happiness and life. I have built cathedrals in His name spread the forest of the world every where the sun shines. I love the wild, I love to forests and I love Pelor, but now he asks me to return to the dark. My cousins, the Great Dwarves, have ask for rescue. Pelor says I must bring them the sun to Kazak-Dun and I am afraid. I have not been underground since Pelor filled my light with life and I do not know what I will find inside myself. Despite my fear I will carry on. Let no man say that I did not do my duty or that I failed Pelor. Today I march for Kazak-Dun.
Fargrim is stocky dwarf with a hefty build. His beard is long and just starting to turn gray. His hand holds an old an twisted staff that looks like it has seen decades of use and his eyes joyful and filled with light. His aspect is bit off-putting since he has the mannerism and speech of a human and not dwarf. As you watch his movements you realize that his staff is for more then defence, his movements are very stiff and his fingers move awkwardly. Those with and eye for medicine can tell it is from broken bones all throughout his body that have never heal quite right. Under his chain mail he wears the robes of a priest of Pelor and holy symbol gleams around his neck.
Since we are post we do not have sperate threads, what are the conventions for OOC talk? Sorry I missed the tread I was not looking in hear for it. Once we have all the PCs up I will start the RP. Thanks Lin!
Mathius: I think the convention for ooc chat is either in sblocks or in light grey, but of course Vagabond is the judge here.
Okra'ik Silversnake gazed at his companions, leaning heavily on his thick staff. Wilm'ik the Blacksmith and his son, Garcka'ik to the left. Nathta'ik of the Dwarvess Guard and Pra'ik the Hunter standing in front, and to the right his age-old mentor and foster father, Wyrr'ik. His grey beard ended in a dirty tip between his feet, but his dark eyes still pierced the darkness surrounding the group like those of a young owl. "Here ends our journey, my good friends." Okra'ik intoned, a faint green glow emerging from his hands the only source of illumination in the dead of night, casting an eerie light over the features of those gathered. The journey had been long and weary, but finally they stood at the gates of Molgar-Karn.
They nodded, and Juthra'ik turned to bash his fist against the gate, demanding entry to the Dwarven stronghold. The door quickly opened, and a burly Dwarf ushered the six inside. They were greeted with a warm buffet and warm beds, and it was not until the next morning that Okra'ik was asked to join with the captain.
With quick goodbyes to his mates of the Gurrat'ik Warclan who would remain to wait for the rest of the warrior kin, Okra'ik set off to Kazak-Dun in the company of five other Dwarves. He smiled at them as they left the safety of the walls, though his eyes maintained the fierce steely gaze, his mind continually focused on the task at hand. He extended his forearm in greeting. "Brave fellows, I am honored to travel alongside you. My name is Okra'ik Silversnake of the Gurrat'ik Dwarves. I carry the magic of Juthra'ik in my bones, and I shall use it to aid our voyage to the stronghold at Kazak-Dun."
He waited, hoping he would recieve the honor of recieving a greeting in return.
“It is a pleasure to meet you my traveling companion who would brave the ways of the unknown halls to face a danger naught known. I am Fargrim Thorstein, last survivor of Fort Ironhill and sole survivor of the Thorstein clan. May the light of Pelor guide our journey.” After his strong greeting his proud bearing a wavers and deflates a bit. A look of worry crosses Fargrim’s face as extends his hand, but does not attempt to clasp the others forearm as is traditional, in greeting to Okra'ik. “I hope I got the greeting right, my people seam so stuck on family clan and honor.”
“Where you bring the power of magic I bring the light of Pelor to burn the evil away.” As he speaks his hands tremble and Fargrim appears quite old but there is conviction is his voice. “I may not have desired this for myself but Pelor has proclaimed that our brothers need his light and that I am to carry it for him”